


You're Awful, I Love You

by UniverseOnHerShoulders



Series: Prompt Fills [21]
Category: Class (TV 2016), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Light BDSM, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-16 09:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10568025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/pseuds/UniverseOnHerShoulders
Summary: Quill is entirely opposed to the capitalist construct that is Valentine's Day. Or at least she is until a certain Time Lady shows up, bearing breakfast in bed, wildly inappropriate lingerie, and wicked promises.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evilqueenofgallifrey (MayFairy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayFairy/gifts).



> For [Aimee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MayFairy/pseuds/evilqueenofgallifrey), who prompted: 
> 
> _Missy surprised Quill on Valentine's Day._  
> 
> Also partly inspired by [this gifset.](http://evilqueenofgallifrey.tumblr.com/post/158705125550/thegirlbehindthegasmask-could-you-give-us-a)

Quill was not entirely sure who was in bed with her, but they had definitely not been there when she went to sleep. She’d woken up approximately three seconds prior, sensed an inscrutable presence behind her, and decided that going back to sleep seemed a reasonable course of action to take. Or at least, it had until the militaristic part of her brain kicked in, at which point she realised she should probably roll over and murder whoever had happened to impose upon her nest-slash-bed, and then attempt to ascertain what their motives had been. Or possibly the other way around. It was hard to get answers from people when they were dead. 

“I’d say ‘don’t try to murder me’,” drawled a horribly familiar Scottish voice from somewhere in the vicinity of behind her. “But I do so enjoy it as a general form of foreplay.” 

Quill sat up like a shot, clutching the duvet to her chest and scowling at the woman who was draped artistically across the bedsheets beside her. Of course it was her. Who else had the sufficient capability to appear in the locality of where she was sleeping without so much as a peep of warning? “What the _hell_ are you doing here?” she asked in a sharper tone than intended, then mentally shrugged and resigned herself to being catty. She _had_ been woken up, after all, and it seemed only fair. “It’s…”

“Seven in the morning, which by your standards is a perfectly reasonable time.” 

“It’s Saturday.” 

“Yes, but I feel like shagging you before we start the day off, and frankly I have glorious plans for us spending the day together, so we need to get started. Ideally shortly.” 

“Bugger off.” 

“That’s rude,” Missy said in a sing-song voice that somehow managed to both grate on Quill’s nerves _and_ arouse her. “I was busy invading a planet but I took a day off and came all the way here to see you.” 

“Shag me, you mean.” 

“Also that.” 

Quill groaned, still half-asleep and not overly enthusiastic about the prospect of a morning shag. Not without sufficient sustenance being consumed first, anyway. “It’s _early._ ” 

“I brought food,” Missy held up a somewhat battered looking paper bag, and Quill cursed how well the woman knew her. “Does that help motivate you?”

Quill side-eyed the Time Lady then lunged for the bag, ripping it open and digging into the croissant contained within with aplomb. Manners be damned. It was seven in the morning on a Saturday, and etiquette was not high on Quill’s priority list. That list currently looked more like _food, fuck, work out petty revenge scheme for Prince Charlie._ She hesitated for a moment, then mentally added: _pet a cat_ and _drink coffee._  

“You’re terribly impolite, dear,” Missy hummed, looking over at Quill in a disapproving manner as though she had never seen her eat before. “Not even a thank you?” 

“Thank you,” Quill said as sarcastically as she could manage with her mouth full of half-chewed pastry. “For waking me up at an unreasonable time at the weekend, for no earthly reason.” 

“Other than a shag.” 

“Other than a shag.” 

“And other than for Valentine’s Day.” 

“For what now?” she swallowed, considering Missy’s words and feeling a faint stirring of memory. She’d seen something about the holiday when she’d last gone shopping, but dismissed it as a product of a capitalist heteropatriarchy. Not that Charlie seemed to share her sentiments. He was fully on board with the idea, but then again, _he_ had someone to cherish – or whatever the disgusting adjective of choice was. “Is that the overblown love day that the humans have all been getting so worked up about lately?” 

“That’s the one.” 

“Is it today?” 

“It is.”

“Shit,” she deadpanned, then noticed Missy’s unimpressed expression and ceased licking almond-flavoured flakes from her fingers. “Should I have got you something? Is that the convention? I didn’t think we were great ones for presents.” 

“Well, _I_ made an effort,” Missy clicked something in her hand and Quill’s bedroom light came on, revealing that every available surface in the vicinity was covered in roses, which in itself was a fairly creepy gesture, exacerbated by the fact that they were all dead. Quill felt a rising sense of irritation as she realised that she would have to clean them up once Missy had left, but bit back a sarcastic comment. “Nice to know that you did.” 

“I don’t buy into tacky, anachronistic displays of unnecessary sentiment,” Quill told Missy, arching an eyebrow in a silent challenge. “I wasn’t aware that you did.” 

“Well, this is awkward now, isn’t it?” Missy said in a saccharine tone. “I’ve gone to all the trouble of materialising in your bed – which was terribly difficult, by the way, I missed and nearly scared the living daylights out of the poor lad that lives in the next room – and arranging these roses and bringing you a croissant, and you didn’t even think to get your poor, put-upon paramour anything.” 

“You materialised in Charlie’s bed?” Quill asked, ignoring Missy’s use of the term ‘paramour.’ Quill herself preferred ‘fuck buddy,’ but Missy had objected tremendously the first time she’d said it, so they’d settled on ‘paramour’ as an uneasy compromise. “What did he say?” 

“Are we going to talk about him, or are we going to talk about the fact that I’m wearing ludicrously inappropriate underwear?” 

“Are you?” Quill frowned, casting a critical eye over the Time Lady and finding her distinctly overdressed. “It’s rather difficult to tell under all those layers of clothing you insist on wearing at all times.” 

“Maybe you should take some off then,” Missy suggested, indicating to the topmost button on her purple jacket in a way that was possibly intended to be seductive. It worked for Quill, but then again, Missy in general worked for Quill. “How’s that for an idea?”

She pretended to ponder the issue, examining her nails in a way she hoped was infuriating. “Appealing,” she reasoned, her tone carefully neutral as she met Missy’s gaze and then sucked her remaining fingers clean of croissant debris. “Certainly appealing.” 

“Only _appealing_?” Missy arched an eyebrow and made a grab for Quill, who twisted out of the entanglement of the sheets and straddled Missy’s hips before the Time Lady could pin her down first. This time she would definitely get the upper hand, and it would not be taken from her. She tried not to think of how badly that resolution had failed in the past. “No clothes in bed? Bad girl.” 

“I find them restrictive,” Quill purred, leaning down and kissing leisurely down Missy’s throat before sitting back up and smirking. “Besides, my _paramour_ has a tendency to turn up, and she’s not a big fan of them.” 

“Really?” the Time Lady asked, sliding her hands up the smooth expanse of Quill’s thighs and allowing them to rest upon her waist, and the physics teacher shivered under her touch. She hated how much Missy could push her buttons and get inside her head. Her hatred was only mildly exacerbated by Missy’s unfailing ability to make her come.

“Really,” Quill told her, beginning to grind infinitesimally against Missy’s hips in a way that could probably be considered animalistic, but which allowed her to get off while smirking down at the older woman. “She tends to complain that-” 

Before she could get any further, Missy’s hands had darted up to her breasts and twisted both her nipples expertly, eliciting a sharp moan from Quill as the Time Lady rolled them both over, gaining the power advantage once more. _Bollocks,_ Quill thought to herself. _Now I’m fucked. In both senses._  

“Your paramour,” Missy reminded her, hovering above Quill with the kind of smirk that the blonde would enjoy wiping off her face. “Would like to remind you that you should undress me before engaging in anything as self-gratifying as grinding on me. Because we both know what happened last time, and unless you fancy washing my clothes again, I would like to suggest disrobing me.” 

“I hate you,” Quill said through clenched teeth, trying to suppress the memory. “A lot.”

“Oh, now, be nice,” Missy pouted. “I did so enjoy watching you naked, scrubbing my dress down like an obedient little pet. I enjoyed your filthy mouth slightly less, but the soap did seem to teach you a lesson.” 

Quill hesitated for a moment, weighing up the pros and cons of her actions. Enjoyable though it was to disobey Missy, the memory of standing in the Time Lady’s TARDIS kitchen – naked but for an apron and scrubbing at the heavy, wet fabric of her paramour’s jacket – was enough to spur her into action, and with a resentful sigh, she began to unbutton Missy’s jacket, her fingers making light work of the small, detailed buttons. “I hate you,” she told Missy contemptuously, as the Time Lady pressed kisses across her chest. “A lot.” 

“Would you like another taste of soap?” 

Quill gagged at the recollection of how the bar of Imperial Leather had felt between her teeth. “No,” she said sulkily, pushing the Time Lady’s jacket from her shoulders and starting on her blouse. _Why does she have to wear so many layers?_ _It’s like she enjoys doing this._ “Sorry.” _Oh. Right. She does._  

“Good girl,” Missy purred, sitting up enough to shrug off her jacket before sucking Quill’s throat, hard enough to mark, as the blonde continued to struggle with the buttons of her blouse. “Hurry up now.” 

“It’s difficult to strip you when you seem so keen on pressing yourself against me and being generally… distracting.” 

“Can I help it that my paramour has a wonderful body?” Missy asked innocently, kissing Quill deeply before pulling away and answering her own question: “No, I cannot.”

“Yeah, alright…” Quill felt herself blush at the unexpected compliment, concentrating instead on finally tugging off Missy’s blouse, falling silent as she took in what lay beneath. The Time Lady had chosen a cherry-red bra which Quill was dimly aware fell within the colour scheme of this ludicrous ‘Valentine’s Day,’ and as her eyes roved down, Quill noticed the top of what appeared to be a matching pair of underwear peeking out from the waistband of Missy’s skirt.

“Want to go further?” the Time Lady asked, noticing Quill’s appreciative look, and she felt herself turn a darker shade of red even as her hands went to the zip of Missy’s skirt, fumbling with it until it gave enough for her to pull the garment off. Underneath lay – as she had predicted – matching underwear, coupled with what her brain helpfully informed her were stockings. She’d seen them before of course – online, and in shops, and sometimes on women she walked past late at night as she roamed the streets, unable to sleep – but she’d never seen the point of them before now. Laying here underneath a crimson-garbed Time Lady, Quill suddenly became dazzlingly aware of the point. Blushing wasn’t usually her forte – but Missy wasn’t usually quite so coordinated, and although she hated herself for it, the military-like uniformity of the lingerie was a distinct turn on for Quill. She looked away from the Time Lady, willing her cheeks to stop burning. 

“Wow,” she said reluctantly, knowing Missy would expect a comment on her attire, but not wanting to seem overly keen. “Nice.” 

“Nice?” Missy arched an eyebrow in mock-offence. “That’s a terribly underwhelming response, I spent hours picking these out just for your benefit.”

Before Quill could form an acerbic reply, Missy’s lips were on hers, and she felt the Time Lady bite down on her lower lip before sliding her tongue into her mouth. She was only dimly aware of Missy pushing her knee between her thighs as she fought against the Time Lady for dominance, before the older woman slipped her hand up to cup her sex and Quill fell reflexively still, rendered motionless by the consideration that she was at the older woman’s mercy, and _goddess,_ the things the older woman could do if she felt Quill deserved it. 

“Now,” Missy cooed, trailing her lips down Quill’s throat, idly nipping at the skin where her neck met her shoulder and eliciting a hiss in response. “Are you going to be good?”

“I’m never good.”

She yelped when Missy’s hand connected with her cunt, snarling up at the Time Lady at the unexpected – but not entirely unpleasant – contact.

“Complaints?” Missy asked, her eyes wide and innocent, but before Quill could formulate a response, the dark-haired woman had twisted her hand and slipped two fingers inside her. _Fuck her,_ Quill thought in irritation, before Missy moved her fingers and her brain began to short-circuit. _Fuck her, but not like she’s fucking me._ “Hmm?” 

“I…” Quill breathed, too distracted to think. Missy was intoxicating. Maddening, domineering, insane… but addictive. She knew how to make Quill fall apart, and she wasn’t entirely sure whether that was a good thing or not. “I really, really hate you.” 

“Now,” Missy used her thumb and littlest finger to pinch Quill’s clit, and she hissed involuntarily at the roughness of the gesture. “Be nice, dear.” 

“Nice is boring.” 

“Exactly. Nice won’t get you off,” Missy reminded her, and Quill scowled. “Oh, poppet, no sour faces.” 

“Maybe you should give me something better to do with my face, then. Like sitting on it.” 

“Good idea, but I don’t know if you’ve deserved that yet. Don’t want you to completely burn out so early,” Missy told her, kissing her deeply and smirking as she did so. Quill knew she was right, but she still found herself hating the older woman for it. 

“Are you…” Quill managed, as the Time Lady drew back to allow her to breathe. “Going to get me off, or just lie there and look attractive in the hope it makes me come?” 

“Not that I’d object to the latter – because it would definitely work – fucking you is very much on the agenda,” Missy’s mouth twisted into a smile, and she shifted her fingers inside Quill, who was dimly aware that she was moaning at an inappropriate volume for Saturday morning, but found herself not caring. Still kissing her languorously, Missy brought her free hand up to stroke light patterns across Quill’s breasts, her thumb working over the physics teacher’s clit as she did so. Filthy, crooning words of encouragement fell from her lips each time she stopped kissing Quill, allowing her to catch her breath for a few seconds before reclaiming her lips with her own, and from time to time Missy would slip her fingers from Quill’s cunt and spank the inside of her thighs lightly, building the blonde’s sensitivity and causing her hips to buck upwards involuntarily.

“One day,” Missy murmured to her, as her damp fingers came into contact with the burning-hot skin of Quill’s thighs. “I’m going to put you over my knee and spank you properly. For being an impolite, ill-mannered, needy tart.” 

“Fuck you,” Quill snarled half-heartedly, feeling herself grow wetter at Missy’s words and hating herself for that fact. “You bitch.” 

“I’m already fucking you,” Missy told her in a low tone, slipping her fingers back inside Quill and smirking. “Now, are you going to come for me?” 

“No.” 

“That’s a shame,” Missy kissed her, long and sweet, before pinching Quill’s clit, and despite her best efforts, the blonde found herself climaxing, driving her hips into Missy’s hand needily as she cursed and moaned into the Time Lady’s mouth. “There.” 

“Damn,” Quill sank back into her pillows with a whimper, spent. “You’re going to kill me.” 

“Maybe one day,” the Time Lady winked, kissing Quill’s forehead in a surprisingly intimate gesture. “Happier?” 

“Mmmf,” Quill agreed, satiated from her orgasm but remembering – dimly, her brain still in a hazy, well-fucked haze – that there was generally etiquette involved with this kind of thing. Especially if Missy was involved. If the Time Lady hadn’t got herself off, that generally indicated something fiendish would occur at a later time. Or date. Or occasionally both, depending on how white-hot their need for each other was. “What about…”

“Me?” Missy shrugged in a way that did little to alleviate Quill’s suspicion. “Oh, I thought we could save that for later. I know what you’re like.”

“Which would be?” 

“You need something to get you out of bed,” Missy told her pragmatically, reaching for her blouse and slipping it back on. Quill felt a stab of disappointment that she wouldn’t have longer to appreciate Missy’s immaculately chosen – and, disappointingly, still immaculately unstained and untorn - lingerie. “That was _your_ something. Well, that and the croissant.” 

“Is there anything else?” Quill asked, feigning ambivalence in a concerted attempt to push Missy’s buttons. “Anything more substantial?” 

“Well, I’m sure I could arrange to sit on your face later, and possibly buy you coffee. But only if you get up now.”

Quill contemplated the offer then nodded in agreement, springing out of bed and then grimacing at the dampness between her thighs. “I’m going to shower. Coming?” 

Missy made a face. “Oh no, dear, I don’t spend hours styling my hair like this only for it to be ruined by your – admittedly impressive – hygiene system.” 

“Well, will you still be here when I emerge?” Quill asked drily. “Or do you fancy coming and watching me shower?” 

“It’s not a spectator sport.” 

“No, it’s not,” Quill shrugged, then said mischievously: “But here on Earth they have these ludicrous adverts for shower products that consist of women massaging themselves in foam while more or less orgasming from the smell of flowers, and frankly, I’m up for recreating that for your viewing pleasure.” 

“Well,” Missy pondered the issue for half a beat. “Consider me convinced. But don’t take too long, dear. Not that looking at your naked body is a chore, just we do have plans.” 

“We do?” 

“I did tell you that, how well fucked are you?” 

“Fairly.” 

“Well they consist of going and slapping Wonder Woman in the face. Is that something that sounds generally agreeable?”

Quill pretended to ponder the issue. “I suppose so.” 

“Good,” Missy purred, getting up from the bed and following Quill into her ensuite. “Now, never mind orgasming from the smell of flowers… I learnt this marvellous trick from the one with the eyes. Can I make you come just from talking to you?”

Quill wasn’t sure, but she definitely had a feeling that they were about to find out.


End file.
